Who and Holmes
by IWillFlyOneDay
Summary: "0-7-7-0-0-9-0-0-4-6-1. Ring any bells?" Sherlock said. "No, I don't recognize it." John said. Sherlock shrugged and quickly answered the call. But instead of a voice, there was static. "H-H...H-Hello?" Said a voice through the static. "Who am I speaking to?" Sherlock said through the phone. "I'm the Doctor." Said the man.


Sherlock Holmes laid on his couch, in his shared flat with John Watson. 221B. Unlike many other Saturdays, he wasn't wrapped in a bed sheet. It was a 2:00 in the morning Saturday. He craned his neck and looked around the cluttered room. Books. Experiments. Skulls... Nothing out of the ordinary.

He sighed. Nothing to do. He had read five books within the last two hours he had been alone in the apartment. John had spent the night with Mary. John's ___girlfriend. _Sherlock blinked a few times. His eyelids were heavy. Sleep. He hadn't got much of it. Granted, he never did, but the last few days had been extremely tiring for him. He didn't know about John, but he felt overworked. Three cases Lestrade had piled onto him. None of them Sherlock had declined. All of them were interesting to him. Three kidnappings. And he had to solve all three of them. He stretched. He felt, and heard, all of the muscles in his shoulders and upper back creek and crunch as he did. He sighed again. Pure boredom. He would have grabbed a gun, and started to shoot the wall again, but he did have a somewhat heart. He didn't want to wake up Mrs. Hudson at this hour.

He jolted up from his comfortable spot on the couch. He had heard the keys to the apartment rattle as the opened the door downstairs. He had guessed it was John. Who else that lived here would be out this late? He relaxed and laid back down in his spot. He picked up a book and pretended to read it just as John entered the room.

"Hey Sherlock.." said the ever so tired John.

Sherlock gave a simple nod to the dreary man. John rolled his eyes.

___Has he been just lying there the whole night, reading a book?_ Thought John.

John walked to the kitchen. He started to make tea. He probably wouldn't be sleeping the rest of the night anyways. Might as well get caffeine into his system.

"So," Sherlock started.

John looked over to his friend.

"She broke up with you then?" Sherlock asked. John sighed.

"You know, you don't have to rub it in my face like that..." John said as he continued to make tea.

Sherlock threw the book across the room.

"And how exactly was I rubbing it in your face?" He asked.

"Because you obviously knew she broke up with me, hence me coming home at this hour..." John said with a sigh.

Sherlock chuckled. Wouldn't John ever figure it out? Sherlock Holmes would never stop showing off. Or, rubbing things in people's faces, as John put it.

John walked over with a cup of tea in his hand. He sat down in the chair closest to the couch. He took a sip of his tea before carefully placing it down on the table. The sound of rain started to pound on the windows and roof of the apartment.

"Rain.." John said, breaking the silence.

He sighed. He looked over to the clock. 2:19 AM. The rain poured harder outside. John's eyebrow's arched in confusion.

"Really, it's really pouring out there.." He said, not expecting to get a response from Sherlock.

"Yes.." Sherlock said.

The both of them, bored out of their minds, sitting in a flat, listening to the rain pound on top of them. It seemed at peace, at least, it seemed that way until the sound of some sort of laser being fired broke through the harsh rain. Along with a sudden scream afterwards. The two men scrambled to the window wordlessly.

"What the hell was that?" John asked.

"No idea.." Sherlock replied before his eyes searched the outside world.

There was a cloud of fog, or some haze outside.

"It wasn't like this when I was on my way home.." John said.

Though, through the fog, there was some sort of figure. A large one at that. The silhouette had the appearance of a large misshapen garbage can with a large eye stalk sticking out of the front of it.

"Sherlock, what is that?" John asked.

"What makes you think I know?" Sherlock replied.

Sherlock quickly paced to the coat rack, grabbing his coat and scarf. John though, stayed a few more seconds to study the silhouette. He could still barely see.

"Come on John!" He heard his friend yell. He looked back just to see Sherlock out the door.

* * *

John grabbed his coat and quickly paced after Sherlock, who was already outside searching for the large misshapen trashcan they saw through the window.

"Sh-Sherlock! Wait up, would you?" John said to him as he caught up.

Sherlock gave a simple grunt to acknowledge John. His eyes darted through the streets, searching for something to lead to the whereabouts of the one who screamed. It had been a woman's scream, likely in her early twenty's. Sherlock paced through the streets, as John explored the alleys for evidence. Sherlock finally found a piece of information. Her phone. Or he presumed it was her phone. Not many people would leave their phones lying out in the streets. He swiftly grabbed and examined the phone. _Three years of age. Dropped occasionally._ _U_sed _for texting frequently._ Sherlock quickly observed it.

"John!" Sherlock shouted at his friend.

No reply. Worried, Sherlock turned around to the last area he saw John in and shouted his name again.

"John!" He shouted.

"Over here!" Sherlock heard John yell from an alley nearby.

Sherlock quickly darted over to where John's voice originated. As he approached John, Sherlock saw that he had found a piece of evidence. A _important_ piece of evidence. The woman who screamed. John was knelling down at her side, examining her. He held up her wrist, which flopped like a rag-doll's.

"She's dead." He said blatantly.

Sherlock knelled down to take a closer look. _Early twenty's. Moderately wealthy. Owns a small dog. _Sherlock quickly observed her, except he wasn't observing the most crucial piece of information. Her cause of death.

"Here, I found this." Sherlock said as he held up the phone.

"You're sure it's hers?" John asked.

"Who would leave their phone in the middle of the road?" Sherlock said.

John nodded in agreement. Sometimes he could be so thick.

"It _was _hers..." John said, putting emphasis on was.

"So, who's the attacker?" Sherlock questioned as he stood up.

"What do you mean? She wasn't shot. There's no wound." John said as he got up as well.

"Then why did she scream?" Sherlock said.

"Maybe, a heart attack?" John said, sounding puzzled.

Sherlock gave him an annoyed stare.

"Right..." John said with a sigh.

He couldn't figure it out. How did she die? And what was that odd sound that followed her scream? The two continued to look at the body. They both thought of every possible reason for her death, yet none of them fit.

"Maybe she was poisoned..." John thought out loud.

"Possibly." Sherlock said.

There was a sudden vibration in Sherlock's had, followed by a slightly annoying ringtone.

"Probably a friend." John said.

"No, it's an unrecognized number." Sherlock said as he read the screen.

"0-7-7-0-0-9-0-0-4-6-1. Ring any bells?" Sherlock said as he read the number aloud.

John repeated the numbers in his head.

"No, I don't recognize it." John said.

Sherlock shrugged and quickly answered the call. He waited for the other end to speak first. But instead of a voice, there was static.

"H-H...H-Hello?" Said a voice through the static.

They obviously had a bad connection.

"Who am I speaking to?" Sherlock said through the phone.

More static.

"Hello?" Sherlock said.

"H-Hold on!" Said the voice.

The voice was a distinctive British one, and of a male, which Sherlock guessed to be in his early thirty's. There was a sudden beep and the static went away.

"Now that's better!" Said the man in a cheery tone.

"Who am I speaking to?" Sherlock repeated.

"I'm the Doctor." Said the man.

John gave Sherlock a puzzled look.

"What's he saying?" John mouthed to him.

Sherlock glanced at John but quickly returned to the phone.

"The Doctor? What do you mean? Doctor what?" Sherlock asked, slightly annoyed.

"It's just The Doctor." Said the man, in a less cheerful tone.

"But you must have a last name." Sherlock argued.

_He is obviously hiding his real name. _Sherlock thought.

There was more beeping from the other end. Sherlock sighed.

"Look, don't be difficult, just tell me your name." Sherlock said coldly.

"I already told you! It's The Doctor!" The Doctor said, sounding irritated and preoccupied with something.

There was more beeping in the background.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked, his ears listening closely at the beeping noise.

"Just...locking on to your position..." The Doctor said, still sounding like he was doing something else instead of focusing on the conversation.

Sherlock looked up in the sky.

"What?!" He shouted, alarmed at the possible mention of missiles.

No reply from 'The Doctor'.

"What is it? Whats wrong?" John asked as he looked up into the night sky as well, only to be smacked in the face with raindrops.

"Who are you?!" Sherlock shouted into the phone.

Still no answer.

Then, there was a sudden, 'whirring' sound. The wind started to blow in their direction, followed by the appearance

of a Strange, Blue Box.


End file.
